


In the Name of the Son

by stuffilikeiwrite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, POV Darth Vader, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Pre-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Skywalker Family Drama, Skywalker Family Feels, luke and vader, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffilikeiwrite/pseuds/stuffilikeiwrite
Summary: “Yes,” Luke admitted, with a solemn nod. “But I am also the son of Anakin Skywalker.Yourson. Can you kill me?”“That name means nothing to me now,” Vader snapped, tone sharp as his rage flared to the surface.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	In the Name of the Son

“You don’t have to run, Father. Not anymore.”

Luke’s eyes were soft, despite his hard set features. Head held high, proud with his back straight. Full of defiance. Making no move to defend himself, his new light saber clipped to the side of his belt as a display of his subservience. His dark blonde hair brushing over his forehead, expression a mixture of conviction and expectation.

Vader recognized it all too well; he had seen the same gleam of determination in Padmé’s hazel eyes every time she rehearsed her speeches for the Senate. She had possessed the same fire, the same will to change the world. To reconstruct the foundations of society from the ground up. Luke may not have the same political stance, but he was opposed to the current state of rule. Opposed to the Empire, one of the Rebel Alliance’s strongest assets.

It made the boy dangerous, and Vader knew he should opt to dispatch the offspring of _The Jedi_. The boy should be insufficient, should mean nothing to him. Yet, something stilled every urge to attack, making him hesitate inexplicably. Instead, he found himself instinctively relenting, some inherent fondness for the baby faced youth urging him to lower his own weapon. Urging him to switch the saber off, empty silence replacing its constant thrumming hum. He kept the hilt firm in his fist, but made no further move.

“I do not run. You, however, would be wise to flee. You are an enemy of the Empire, and thus a traitor. The Emperor has given me no leeway, you are to be executed for your treason.”

“Yes,” Luke admitted, with a solemn nod. “But I am also the son of Anakin Skywalker. _Your_ son. Can you kill me?”

“That name means nothing to me now,” Vader snapped, tone sharp as his rage flared to the surface.

Luke wouldn’t budge. He stood immobile, entirely unfazed by the sudden outburst. He simply clasped his hands in front of his hips, keeping his wide stance posture. Patient, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he could - would - wait a lifetime for his father to stop denying what they both knew. To accept what was staring him square in the face.

Vader grit his teeth behind the face plate, glancing silently down at the sheathed blade in his hand. If he had been able, he might have sighed in defeat. Rare was the time he backed down, even The Jedi had been too stubborn to lay down without a fight. Too reckless to take no for an answer. Still, he made the work of clipping his own saber to his belt a quick process, making sure it didn’t register as a sign of weakness. Folding his arms across his chest, he puffed his chest out. Going for an imposing, menacing approach.

Judging by the way in which Luke remained unflinching, barely even blinking; he had failed in his intention to intimidate his son into surrendering. Though he suspected that was not due to his own fault. Luke simply shrugged, taking a quick look around himself. Inspecting the rubble of the citadel outskirts, the final rays of the setting sun bleeding through the cracks. Half collapsed buildings and monuments, long since reclaimed by nature and wilderness. Flowers and branches looping, as they snaked their way through stone and marble formations. The long since rotted wooden ceiling, replaced by a canopy of tree crowns. The remains of what had once been a proud Jedi temple, close to a thousand years ago. 

Vader assumed Luke had come here for guidance, to better connect to the Force - or perhaps, he had knowingly wished to lure the threat he posed with his father hot on his tail away from his fellow rebel fighters.

“We both know that’s not true,” said Luke eventually, voice so casual as he relaxed enough to step aside. “Your offensive nature gives you away.”

“I see that you have taken to Obi Wan’s manner of lecture. It suits you poorly.

“It suits _you_ even worse.”

In a slow stride, hands now on his hips, Luke made a slow half circle around Vader. Vader himself scowled, knowing better than to trust an enemy to scrutinize him - even if the enemy in question was _The Jedi’s_ child. The young man’s angular jaw, the deep blue gaze, the golden feathery hair. It felt like deja vu, like he was staring into a mirror - seeing a younger version of Anakin Skywalker over two decades ago, so full of life and promise. But as the scarce light that spilled from overhead hit Luke’s features just light, the fleeting resemblance of Padmé came to life. It danced over his cheekbones, over his plump lips, over his furrowed brow. The courage he showed was hers entirely.

“Why don’t we talk about it?” Luke chirped for an inquiry, spinning around on his heels and baring his back to Vader; guard completely down.

Vader had the perfect opportunity.

He could reach out with the Force, to seize the boy’s thin neck and snap it like a twig. One quick motion, and it would break like it was nothing more than a straw of weed. It would be so easy. But even though he knew it was what his master expected - either he would kill Luke or Luke would kill him to replace him at the Emperor’s side - he found he couldn’t. His arms were locked in place, his psyche brushing up against the Force, knowing which buttons to push. Sensing a Force signature so similar to his own it was both frightening and exhilarating all at once. The habitual tracks of his mind traced the step of an invisible choke - familiar, a well used ability. Yet, there was a block in place. A fortified wall, restraining him from committing himself to the act.

It became quite obvious to him then, that Luke _knew_ this.

Luke knew of Vader’s struggle as he grappled with the sudden wish not to harm him, despite his ruthless conditioning. He knew he might lose another limb if unlucky, might not come out unscathed - but he would live. That in itself was infuriating, fueling Vader’s rage until he was near livid. Seething as he plunged himself into the Dark Side, his insides burning with anger; the intensity of the emotion eating him alive. Still, the flames would not tear down the barricades. All they served for was to drown out any unwanted, more distracting feelings. 

To what might have been horror, Vader realized that _The Jedi’s_ sentiments were still reinforced within him. He might deny it, might scream into the night, fight back with all his might. It would be futile. Emotions running haywire, he was reminded of another life; another time he’d thought long gone, dead and buried.

“There is nothing for us to discuss, son.”

The words left his mouth before his thoughts had processed them properly.

He had referred to Luke as his son before, despite the fact that the child was the offspring of Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker was a dead man. Incinerated, destroyed and repressed _never_ to resurface. Yet, when the boy peered over his shoulder, those big blue eyes revealing a forlorn, deep set sadness - something made Vader’s chest area clench with a tight ache.

A simmering, previously forgotten, numbed pain reawakening. Laying dormant under the surface of bitterness and anguish for far too long. Lingering remnants of a crushing guilt; the image of Padmé’s disbelieving, grief stricken face put to the forefront of his mind. Her pleading, her voice breaking as she asked him to come away with her. Her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Vader found himself turning away, shutting his eyes abruptly to block out the view inspiring such a wretched reminder.

“We both know that’s a lie. You tell me I’m your son, but at the same time you press that you’re _not_ Anakin Skywalker. You say Anakin Skywalker is dead, and yet you want to claim me as kin. You can’t have it both ways, Father.”

Luke’s voice was factual, on point and steady. It was clear he would not budge on the stance, would not allow himself to be swayed. That he would not allow arguing. Vader recognized that, too, and it made for another agonizing reminder of a past in which _The Jedi_ had longed profusely for the glorious gift his wife’s unexpected pregnancy offered. He could feel the calm radiating from Luke’s Force signature, reaching towards him like an inviting embrace. So strong, so light, so warm and bright, and overpowering. Like a star, burning with the intensity of faith in all that was good, and gracious. It was a ridiculous ground to stand on, Vader scoffed, but he had to admire the sheer power his son exuded. The sheer stubbornness behind his conviction.

“There are many things you fail to understand. Your youth makes you naive, and I see that Obi Wan’s tuition has not helped your sense of reasoning. Indeed, he appears to have sheltered you for far too long,” Vader slowly spoke, once he’d gathered enough sense to find a suitable retort.

“I know enough to deduce that if you are indeed my father, something you know I can sense as clearly as you do now, you are still the same man. I don’t care whatever name you go by, Jedi or Sith. I don’t care for your ranks or titles, or for your master. The Emperor has made this Galaxy bleed for long enough, don’t tell me you can’t see that!”

“It is not that simple, son.”

“Yes it _is_. The fact that you keep calling me your son is simple enough, don’t you think?”

“I must obey my Master. Our familial ties are insignificant, when put up against his powers. You do not know him as I do.”

“And I don’t care. I care only about _you_ , about us. Don’t you see?”

Vader found he could not adequately reply to that, that he had been backed into a corner. Not unwittingly, he had by his own volition allowed his son to push him up against the figurative wall. To ensnare him with his words. Balling his hands into tight fists, Vader braced himself. That persistent pressure inside his chest cavity expanding, hollowing him out. The usual numbness fading into the background, giving way to the myriad of different emotions that had been suppressed by apathy and suffering. It was all too much, and Vader couldn’t pinpoint a specific source, or name which sentiment had the upper hand. All he knew was that he was feeling too much.

“Father. Am I your son, or not? You either deny it to my face, or you accept the truth. I will not back down until you make your choice.”

“It is impossible.”

“No, it’s not. It’s either the Emperor, or me. It’s either you disowning your true self once and for all, or you accepting what you’ve known all along. What we both know.”

Luke’s voice was harsh now, demanding as the boy whirled around. Without hesitation, he stalked right up to Vader. His aura carried no trace of fear or dread, only frustration and hope. Above all, there rested a sense of resolution, and an inexplicable, perhaps misguided affection. Something warm, and genuine, and _dizzying_.

Its comforting arms were still reaching out for Vader, still wide open as if wishing to hold him close. Waiting with a saintly patience. It was a jarring juxtaposition to the boy’s fierce, fiery blue eyes as he bore them into Vader’s face plate - as if he could see through the mask, to pierce what lay beneath. Head tilted back, the boy short and thin and frail, but in that moment there was nothing fragile about him. In that moment, he might as well have been the most powerful being in the Galaxy. In that moment, he might have unnerved even the likes of Emperor Palpatine. In spite of himself, Vader found himself taking a staggering, hesitant step backwards.

Vader _knew_ what the boy wished to hear, but the words got stuck in his throat. He tasted them on his tongue, opened his mouth but his lips would not move. The syllables would not form, the hoarse whisper not even loud enough to be carried through by the vocoder. Still, as the baby blue orbs darted all over his mask, seemingly attempting to deduce their unfeeling sharp edges into something more palatable - Vader knew he could not deny it. Heart heavy, the weight of his own sins bearing down on his shoulders; he yielded. If only for a brief moment, the crack in his impenetrable facade was enough.

Luke must have sensed it, because his features softened. Because the boy’s signature brushed up against it, tugging at the exposed innards through the burst seams before the wounds could close back up into scars. The crease between his furrowed brows smoothed out, a serenity calming his stormy eyes. The corners of his lips turned slightly upwards, as he took a step back in turn.

“Say it, Father. That’s all I ask. That’s all I need,” he said. “You may do whatever you see fit, but I need you to tell the truth. If not for yourself, then for _me_.”

No begging, no pleading. Luke seemed to be pulling the words out of him, manipulating the situation to his favour in a tender way. Another flash of Padmé, her half smirk as she won another domestic dispute simply by her intelligence. His hand atop her belly, her tiny palm pressed to the back of his. She’d been looking forward to the arrival of their son. She’d known. All in vain, her love for him forgotten in a blazing instance of jealousy and blind rage.

One wrong move, that was all it took. Now he would forever pay for her death, the blame forever taunting him. Vader alone carried the burden, her restless phantom forever haunting his waking nightmare of a life. Despite that, despite Luke sensing his doubt and his fears - the boy was unbreakable. Despite the shields he had guarded himself with, the walls neither Obi Wan nor Ahsoka had managed to obliterate. Now, they too, lay piled onto the heap of lives he had snuffed out unjustly.

“Father, say it.”

Vader couldn’t. He mustn’t. If he said it, it meant he had to take responsibility for his actions. It meant he had to admit that every death he had instigated was in vain. That all the blood on his hands made a permanent stain, one he could never wash away. Men, women, children. _Padmé, Obi Wan, Ahsoka_. Throat tight, a ball of tears he no longer possessed the ability to shed lodged itself at the base. Could Luke ever forgive him his misdeeds? Did he even deserve forgiveness?

“You… are my son. _Mine_.”

“Yes,” Luke nodded.

The bright white, proud beam that spread across the boy’s face was enough to silence the whispering voices of Vader’s subconscious demons. For that fleeting moment, all he could feel was the swell of love, of acceptance; something his life had lacked for so long, he’d forgotten the visceral sensation of endearment. Even as Luke shifted closer to him, even as the boy pressed one unwavering palm right above Vader’s broken heartbeat.

“The son of Anakin Skywalker. _Your_ son.”

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little AU take on Vader coming to terms with himself, and Luke being his son. 
> 
> I always found a conversation like this one between them would be very interesting, so I decided to write it. It’s almost canon compliant, I guess, if you squint. 
> 
> Hope the father-son banter is well received, enjoy!


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